I put my most unwelcoming face on. I need a few minutes of silence. I want to focus on finishing one paragraph. No such luck. My kids seem oblivious to my intimidating “stay away” face. And that’s how it should be. Parents don’t have such a shield in the family. That unapproachable stance is only for the uninitiated and the ones who haven’t dipped their toes in the love bowl of family dynamic, family mess, family lavish acceptance. And lavish it is. The girls drape over us, as the bags under our eyes sag lower. There is no place to hide. They smell us. They can find us in the most obscure corners of our tiny house. There is no real separation. And I want to cry, but there is little time for that. There are legos to build, food to share, drawings to delight in, homework to guide and back exercises to encourage. We are drained and enriched by the same two little trolls. They are silly, and beautiful and free, joyous, noisy and goofy. Our batteries freeze overnight, while they were plugged in to charge. As we sip our coffee in the morning, we realize our battery managed to reach only 9%, and it still shows up as red. How will we manage today? Pure grace. God’s miraculous grace.